


hanabi | 花火

by narramin



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Date Night, Fireworks, Gambling, M/M, Wano festival, rowdy boys having fun, severe misuse of haki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21987139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narramin/pseuds/narramin
Summary: firework /ˈfʌɪəwəːk/nounplural noun: fireworks• a device containing gunpowder and other combustible chemicals which causes spectacular effects and explosions when ignited, used for display or in celebrations.• a display of great skill or energy.Luffy and Zoro finally reunite in Wano, visit a gambling den and go on a less than traditional festival date night.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy/Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 22
Kudos: 185
Collections: OP Secret Santa 2019





	hanabi | 花火

**Author's Note:**

> This is my present for the wonderful [kimpimpam](https://twitter.com/kimpimpam) for the OPSecretSanta2019 event on tumblr. def check her twt/tumblr out!!
> 
> this is for you queen i love you so very much <3

It’s not even noon but sweat’s already forming at the nape of Zoro’s neck in the heat. Wano’s warm and humid, even so early in the summer. He’s taken his simple rice meal— sadly, no alcohol this early— at an old lady’s run down tea house.

“Anything else, good sir?” she asks as he leaves.

“No, thank you,” and with that he ducks under the sign, joining back to the flow of people on the streets. He’s been feeling impatient and bored as shit, lately, full of restless energy with no outlet; laying low has never been his strength. He contemplates checking on Franky later, or going back to their makeshift camp to see if there’s any news on the rest of the crew.

Luffy’s Vivre Card is there, too, left in Kinemon’s hands. 

Wano is a flock of colors, bright and unexpected: the tiles on the roof, hair pinned in elaborate updos. He makes his way through the crowd in a measured pace, wooden geta clanking on the pavement when something, someone rams into his shoulder. He reaches for his sword, when—

“Gosh! Accept my humble apologies for my mistake, good sir!” that someone bellows into his face, voice loud enough to carry two streets down, probably. 

“Stop yelling in my—” his voice falters. His hand unclenches his katana. “Usopp.”

“Usohachi is my name,” Usopp and his moustache say, with a not at all subtle wink that reminds Zoro of Duval. There’s a toad sitting on his head, blinking lazily at Zoro.

“Right. Usohachi. My name is Zorojuro. De gozaru.” 

“A toad oil enthusiast?” Usopp continues loudly, eyes glancing left and right, hooking his arm around Zoro’s shoulder, “I know one when I see one!”

“... Sure.” 

Usopp twirls his fake mustache with glee, “Let me set my mistake right, good sir, and show you my special merchandise.“ He nudges Zoro towards the closest alleyway, pulling him along by the sleeve of his yukata. 

Zoro lets him. There must be a reason Usopp’s made contact with him, a reason he’s so excited. Unlike Zoro, Usopp wouldn’t risked getting discovered without a good reason.

The gateway they stop at is dark and smells faintly of cat piss. “Yes?” Zoro raises an eyebrow. Usopp’s vibrating with excitement. 

“He’s back!” he announces with smile wild as his mustache. “Luffy just got back!” 

Zoro’s face lights up. “Where is he?” 

“He was close by, I just met him when I went around town— he almost wandered right in here, can you believe it? I wanted to park him at Franky’s so I could come and get you, but then I realised that there’s no way he wouldn’t punch someone important, so— ”

Zoro huffs. “Someone or more. Where did you take him, then?”

“Right. I took him back to the others, since he mentioned Chopper’s been looking for him earlier. Then came to look for you.”

The news doesn’t surprise Zoro; if Luffy was in town he’d just have to follow the collapsing buildings and the screaming officials left in his captain’s wake. “So he’s back in the camp already? A pity, ” Zoro says, grinning. "He’d love this town. Brittle buildings, plenty of chance to make trouble."

“Shut— that’s not funny.” Usopp can clearly imagine the mayhem Luffy could cause in a city unattended. Or attended. It’s a wonder, really, that nothing’s on fire yet. 

There’s something else though. 

“Chopper´s looking for him, huh?” Zoro says pointedly. Usually, the reason the doctor is looking for any of them is because they escaped the sick bed, sometimes quite literally, through the porthole. 

Usopp looks away. Picks at the dirt under his fingernails. They are shiny with oil. “He seemed to be fine. But he always does…” he says, hesitant. His face falls. “I just hope it’s not serious.”

“It’s Luffy. When is it ever?” Zoro says and he sees Usopp’s shoulders relax. Zoro’s not particularly concerned; if Luffy’s up and running around he can’t be that hurt, simple as that. 

Or else Zoro will have to kick his ass himself. 

“Are you going back to the camp right now?” Usopp asks him, hopeful. “If you do I can walk with you for a while. Let’s visit my stand. For appearances´ sake, of course,” and Zoro hears it for the request it is. It’s been a while since any of them spent time together. He’s missed the comfort and familiarity of Usopp’s constant babbling, too. 

“Sure,” he says and they walk at what Zoro feels is an excruciatingly slow pace. They pass through the maze of uneven streets, ducking under signs and taking shortcuts and Zoro’s soon sure he’s never been in this part of the capital. Everything seems a bit older, more refined yet run down the same time; the wood of the buildings is darker, older. The people seem different too, more busy and a lot more enthusiastic about keeping the streets clean. They are busy swiping the pavement, hanging lampions.

“Where are we now?” he asks Usopp.

“Huh? It’s the old palace quarter, oldest part of the town. Got poorer since the shogun’s moved, apparently,” Usopp says, frowning. “Why?”

Zoro frowns and asks, “What are they getting ready for? I thought the Fire Festival was in three weeks.”

“Nah, no, it’s not that, thank God. We are nowhere near ready to attack Kaido just yet,” Usopp lets out a nervous laugh. “Can you imagine having to arrange our plan in half a day? I hear this is more like a fair. Something about the summer starting and getting rid of evil spirits,” he explains. “Could have used that against your friend on Thriller Bark, actually.”

Zoro rolls his eye. “Not funny. That damn girl.”

“Come on, no one that negative can be that bad,” Usopp says. “Her way of controlling spirits is definitely more effective. If less enjoyable than eating till you roll and getting wasted.”

Zoro hums. It definitely sounds more entertaining than being negative ghost-ed. In fact, more entertaining that anything he’s done in the past few weeks, and definitely more than spending days in a closed submarine listening to the metallic clang of Law’s nervous pacing on their way to Wano. 

They cross the backwater by one of the several bridges the capital has, paint already flaky as they are getting close to the outskirts of the town. It’s already showing the signs of poverty plaguing most of the country; the kids run around barefoot and in ragged clothes. A little boy’s slumped against a house, his oversized yukata slipping off his shoulders and Zoro can count his ribs. 

The guards at the city gates sweating in the heat are round bellied, faces rubicund and healthy. Their kimonos are fine work, obvious even from a distance; rich navy silk embroidered with silver thread. They aren’t zoans and their hair is bright; locals, obviously not part of Kaido’s crew.

Zoro studies their faces, makes sure he remembers and says nothing. 

What he says to Usopp instead, is: “We didn’t visit your stall”.

Usopp shrugs. “I know. It’s fine, I just had to say it in case people were listening. It’s not that important.” He gives Zoro a meaningful glance. “He’s missed you, you know.” Usopp goes on. “I’m sure you two’d rather see each other as soon as possible.”

“Yeah,” Zoro says. “Thanks, Usopp.” Zoro gives him a pat on the shoulder and waves him goodbye. He hopes Usopp knows he’s truly grateful.

Usopp still adds, “and turn left, _left_ at the hot spring, you remember that? That’s the side you _don’t_ wear your swords on— ” and scratch that, Usopp’s still just a little shit. 

He just flips the bird over his shoulders and walks past the gate. The guards don’t give a shit about him; they are too busy eyeing a girl with brilliant violet hair that’s walking with a basket in one hand, holding her little sister’s hand with the other. 

He keeps his pace measured and deliberately slow on the road with the city and the guards still in sight.

That doesn’t change the fact that Zoro wants to see Luffy as soon as possible.

Zoro hears the camp before he sees it. Someone’s yelling and there’s a distinct smell of something that was once food that’s burnt beyond safe consumption. Someone shouts “Don’t eat that!” and yeah; Luffy’s there alright.

Zoro steps out to the clearing. Luffy’s hanging onto a tree branch, stuffing the remains of what looks like a strange chicken into his mouth. “Luff—” 

“ZORO!” Luffy launches himself at him and the next moment Zoro’s that laid flat out in the dirt, buried under a mess of wiry muscles and knobby knees, his captain straddling him. 

Luffy grins down on him; he looks good, strong, alive. He’s got some stubble on his face, not quite covering an ugly, fading bruise along his jaw. He smells like sweat and antiseptic, with a little bit of blood underneath. 

Zoro runs his hands up on Luffy’s legs, bare under his yukata; he’s already changed into Wano clothes. His skin is warm and dry to the touch. “Missed me, captain?” he teases and Luffy leans down to kiss him. The kiss is wet, sloppy and he can taste whatever burnt abomination Luffy’s just eaten when their teeth click together. Zoro feels his cock twitch.

“Take it as a yes,” he pants, after Luffy lets go and he gets some air. He reaches up and runs a thumb over Luffy’s lip; it’s still split from the fight. The scab’s gonna fall soon, he thinks.

Luffy’s beaming with the radiance of a thousand suns as he cups Zoro’s face. His hands are greasy and sticky with chicken. How could Zoro have thought Wano was bright before. 

“I missed Zoro so much! There was a big guy with a trident, you should have seen him!” Luffy tells him. “His name was Katakuri and he gave me this cool wound,” Luffy’s eyes are bright, hand trying to peel his yukata and the bandages open to show him. Zoro moves his hand to help; he wants to see. He can only get a glimpse of the wound when they are stopped by Chopper who threatens to throw them off the cliff. 

  
  


Later, Zoro lies on his side in the pines’ shade, resting his head on his hand and watches the camp in the harsh noon heat. Watches as Luffy catches up with the rest of the crew; watches the sweat bead on the back of his neck, drying in his hair. He thinks of polishing his swords, but there’s no need for that, not really.

It’s been a while since he had so much fun, anyway. 

When Luffy slaps Kinemon on the back the man chokes and drops some crates. Zoro tries to suppress a grin. 

Luffy catches his eye and grins back.

“You know,” Zoro says then, “there is a festival in town.” There’s been a plan forming in his head since that morning. He slowly runs his hand on Wado’s long curve, laid before him in the dust. He sees Luffy’s eyes track the movement.

Luffy’s face brightens. He’s picking his nose. “Tonight? Why didn’t you say so sooner, Zoro. I’ve been getting bored here. I bet they have all kinds of meat and maybe games and meat there.”

“I bet they do.” Zoro tilts his head. “We are broke though,” he teases; an old joke.

Luffy’s eyes narrow and shine in the way that always sends the blood straight down to Zoro’s dick. His leg stretches and snakes out, and he’s right there, with only one step, crouching before him. He tilts Zoro’s chin up a bit. His touch is calloused and familiar.

“Zoro really is stupid if he thinks we need money to do anything. We are pirates.”

“True. I sure have my ways to make my own,” Zoro says, and angles his head back a bit further, baring his throat, and yes, Luffy’s eyes catch on that, too. “But do you?” and his captain looks a bit taken aback at that, and makes his comical, obviously lying face.

“I do too, Zoro—”

Zoro snorts. “One that doesn’t involve asking Nami for money,'' he says, affectionately. “I’ll show you tonight, before the festival. Let’s go after it gets dark.”

Luffy’s eyes are shine with satisfaction, and he pats Zoro’s cheek. “Let’s.”

  
  


Zoro takes his time during the rest of the day. Gets some of the stew that the Hearts´ cook threw together. He trains behind some of the tents in a place where he knows Luffy can see him, his bare chest shining with sweat. 

He takes a nap after that in the same spot, under the pine trees and listens to the sounds of the camp. It’s almost like being on the Sunny, with grass under his back and the snippets of conversation flowing around him. 

He wakes up some hours later, to Nami nudging him with her foot. “What do you want?” he stretches lazily, and yawns.

“Still alive I see,” she says. With her bight hair and kimono, she looks like one of the locals.“But not for long if you two get discovered tonight.” It’s not a real threat. If she had been really mad, Zoro would have woken up to a kick that no haki could have protected him from. “I heard you two think you are going to town later.”

“Think?” Zoro raises an eyebrow.

“It’s idiotic, even by your usual standards.”

He smirks up to her and says, “Sure, we can stay if you want. And then fuck in the tent right next to yours—”

Nami gives him a look that’s made enemies surrender without a fight. “Yeah I’d like to see you try that.”

“—and then in yours, and maybe on that rock behind the—”

“You are disgusting. Why would you even do that on a rock?”

“Luffy’s made of rubber you know.”

She scoffs. “I’m raising your debt by another 200 000 beri for that alone.”

Zoro snorts. “As if,” but he knows she probably means it. Not that it matters; he’s let go having his debt ever cleared around the time he carried her to the Alabasta Palace. 

Nami sighs, voice almost fond. “Whatever. I wash my hands. But I’m not funding this, you know. I’m keeping my conscience clear,” and Zoro hears it for the blessing it is.

Zoro just waves his hand, “If I needed your loans for the booze I drink I’d have forgotten what alcohol tastes like,” and she smiles. She looks good too, proud and unharmed and very much like someone who just flipped off a Yonko and lived to tell the tale. He’s missed her.

“Oh right, before I forget,” she reaches into her kimono and pulls out a piece of paper. ”I figured you might want to take a look at this.” Her eyes hold a sleazy glint and he frowns as he reaches for the paper.

It’s Luffy’s bounty poster; the one they have nailed on the men’s quarters wall; the same stupid and bright grin he’s so used to seeing. It’s not the same one though; the paper is not yet faded yellow, but new, crisp. A new one.

The number under his name has a very impressive amount of zeros on it.

A grin splits Zoro’s face in half, and he laughs, then he laughs again.

The night is heavy with heat and humidity and the cicadas scream even louder. Luffy’s bouncing as he pats his shoulder. He probably just woke up now; he’s got a bedhead and a pillow mark on his face. Zoro vaguely remembers hearing Chopper forcing a nap out of him a while ago. “Time to go, Zoro.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Zoro says, eye bright as he gets up. It’s been a while since they could just go out and have some fun. He misses that, sometimes, having no plan and just going out into the night, getting drunk and lost together and messily jerking each other off in an alley.

Lit fires cast the camp in a warm glow. The red light dances on Luffy’s profile; it’s got sharper in the past two years; a bit more like a man now. 

A bit more like the Emperor of the Sea he is now. 

The forest they walk is loud with life, and the soil soft under their sandals. Luffy’s whistling a song, too, off tune and old; Zoro can’t help but be charmed. Their shoulders bump into each others from time to time. Heat radiates from Luffy’s skin even through the cotton of their clothes.

Zoro lifts a hand and rubs the back of it on Luffy’s scruffy cheek, with rough affection. “New look I see.” The stubble tickles his palms.

The melody Luffy whistled dies off as he laughs, carfree and loud and he takes Zoro’s hand, keeping it at his face.

“Awh Zoro, you like it?” he says. “I couldn’t shave because my face was so beaten up and swollen, but I think it looks pretty cool. Shank always said real pirates were scruffy when Makino told him to shave.” Then, after a moment, he adds, “Maybe yours would be green, like down there. And I think the Katakuri guy’s beard would be pink too.”

Zoro snorts. “Sounds like one helluva opponent,” he says, with a tiny bit of longing. He would have liked to see that. Luffy standing up, panting, slipping on his own blood, then standing up again and winning anyway, another titan beaten. “I’d fight a man worth a billion berri.”

Luffy’s eyes are dark with something that lights Zoro up inside. “I’d like to see Zoro doing that too,” and licks Zoro’s fingers. He shudders and it takes all of his willpower to keep walking.

It’s the outskirts of the town, streets ill-maintained and straw roofs shaggy. The gambling den is both familiar and strange, filled with music and the sounds of drunk men. Yelling rises from the reed mats where people play odd or even, a game that is known in Wano too, like Zoro discovered it weeks ago; betting on whether the result of the roll of two dice are odd or even is simple enough for the drunks of the world to play.

The mahjong tables aren’t quiet either, faces reddened with sake and the promise of victory. A guy with a bandage over his eye throws his pouch down and kicks his chair back as he storms out.

They’ve elbowed their way to the bar and sit on the tall stools. Luffy’s legs don’t quite reach the floor. “Sake,” Zoro says. Luffy’s munches on a rice cracker with little enthusiasm; that’s the most a den like this has to offer in terms of food, and Zoro wouldn't put money on it being unlaced by any substance, but he’s not worried. Anything that can take his captain is probably unfit for regular human consumption.

Zoro takes a sip of the sake. “Look, captain,” and he nods towards the game. 

The shirtless dealer kneeling in the middle shakes the two dice and puts the cups down. The patrons sitting around him sweat in the heat as they make their bets. It’s four and two on the dice; the result of the game is _even_ this time. The losers shake their head and grumble as they pay up.

Luffy makes a face. “They suck at this, Zoro. It’s not very interesting. Can we go and eat now?” 

Zoro throws back the rest of the sake and signals for two more. “That’s not the point,” he tries to explain. He pushes one of the sake cups over to Luffy.

Luffy gives him a curious look at that. “Does Zoro have any money?” He licks into the sake, grimaces, then licks into it again. 

“Nah. I got like five. But that’s why we’re here, dummy.” He closes his eye for a second, frowning, then he raises voice and waves to the dealer, “Hey old man, I’m putting five gold on _even_.” He throws the coins he’s fished out onto the mat.

The dealer shakes his cups again. Zoro leans close to Luffy and breaths into his ear, “One and five, captain.” He feels Luffy shiver a little, and he almost forgets to pay attention to the game.

The rest of the bets are made on the mat and the cups are turned up. 

“Even,” the dealer announces. He wipes the sweat off his brow as he counts the winnings and losses, but from where they are sitting, they can’t see the dice. 

“Hey geezer,” Luffy asks cheerfully, ”what numbers?” Zoro can tell his interest is piqued.

“One and five, kid,” a toothless old man grumbles, shoving some coins forward, “the hell do you care?”

Luffy lets out an appreciative whistle. “Nice, Zoro.” His eyes crinkle at their corners. 

“Not a bad game after all, huh?” Zoro grins. “Odd now, old man,” he adds, a beat later. The dealer puts the dice in the cups and shakes them again; the wood on wood makes a pleasant sound. Bets are made and more sake is bought around. The dice are revealed.

It’s odd. 

Zoro hides his grin in another drink. Sake trinkles down his throat, mingling with sweat dotted there. “Better to play as two,” he says. His face is flushed, a contrast to his green hair. So is Luffy’s; his eyes are getting shiny with sake and he’s tapping his feet against his chair to the rhythm of the music. 

“So,” Zoro asks lazily, leaning back on the counter. “What’s next, captain?”

Luffy squints at the dice. “Easy, six and two,” and he stuffs another cracker into his mouth. “Put it on odd, old dude!” His arm sneaks behind the bar to get some more food, absentminded.

“Hey now,” Zoro frowns, “is it six and two or odd now—”

“I told you it’s six and two, Zoro.” 

“In what world is eight an odd number?”

Luffy considers this. His food raid’s been successful and he’s sucking on what looks like dried seaweed.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “I’m right.” 

Zoro looks over to the game; the dice show six and two. They lose but it doesn’t matter. Just what he’s expected from his captain, picking his nose now. 

The next round is odd though, and Zoro _wonders._

It’s a good game to play, between the drinks and the money and their knees brushing against each other, hot skin against hot skin. Another musician’s joined in, and some people sing along, voices hoarse and off-beat. Zoro doesn’t know the song but Luffy doesn’t let that bother him. He’s half improvising half humming it, rocking them along with the melody. A fight breaks out on the other side at a table, a heavily tattooed man pulling a knife at his partner, all puffed up bravado. Luffy cheers at them and spills some of his drink on Zoro. 

The roll of the dice, the taste of strong cheap sake and Luffy against him seem to blur together. It’s Rougetown, in the diner, and the hole-in-the-wall they once visited in Alabasta; Luffy’s a scrawny kid with the ink on his first bounty still wet, and a Yonko of the New World with a fleet sworn to him. He’s red, hot. with steam rising from his skin, giant with black patterns curling around him. He’s kid faced and scruffy, chest spotless and scarred at the same time; his eyes and grin are all the same though, and smells the same, too.

“Hmmm.. odd, even... odd,” Zoro stares at the game. Some of the patrons have changed. He’s pleasantly buzzed by now and it’s easy to distract, with Luffy leaning against him like that. “He’ll drop the cup after.”

“Yeah”, Luffy nods, considering, “Dice’s gonna roll to that old geezer’s feet.” His hair tickles Zoro’s ear. “It’s easier to tell what people will do,” he adds after a moment. 

Luffy’s facing him. He strokes Zoro’s face, his thumb running over his earrings one by one; their soft jangle’s almost lost in the cacophony, but not to Zoro. He shivers as the cold metal and Luffy’s hand presses to his neck. 

In the background the dealer loses his grip and the dice fall. 

Zoro clears his throat and asks, “What’s next?”

“Odd,” Luffy says, without taking his dark eyes off Zoro. He takes another sip and licks the sake off his lips, tongue a sliver of wet pink. Zoro can’t keep his eye off its movement. He wants to taste it off Luffy’s mouth. 

The drunk patrons behind them bellow. 

Neither of them has to turn around to see; it’s odd. Luffy puts down his cup with a loud clunk, and straightens up, shoulders back; decision made.

“So then, captain,” Zoro asks. “What will I do now?”

“I think”, Luffy says, fingers still playing with his earrings, “Zoro will do as I say.”

Zoro feels his pulse speed up and manages, “Yeah? And what’s that, captain?”

Luffy hums. He lets him go and jumps off the seat, almost treading on the gamblers. “First, let’s get to that festival.” 

Zoro doesn’t have to be dragged along. 

The festival is a swirl of color and lampions illuminating the streets like fireflies; glowing red, orange and purple. The air is heavy with the scent of food, with sweet pork roasting and something that smells like spice and the sea. Zoro catches a sign over the flow of the people saying takoyaki. The shogun must have taken this as an opportunity to show off his generosity, both sides of the street is kiosk after kiosk. A kid in a mask slides in between them, with dango in her hands and her brother running after her, laughing and yelling. 

Luffy locates the closest stall that sells meat with all the confidence of a hungry man. He pushes the people out of line. “Hey granny, give me all kinds of meat you have,” arm already looped around two dozen of the skewers, pork and beef and something Zoro doesn't recognise, dripping with sauce. By the time he pays Luffy’s cheeks are already round like a hamster’s and he munches on the food with the speed of a Sea King. 

After a moment of hesitation, Luffy hands him one of the skewers. He throws an arm around Zoro, hooking his thumb in his obi and nudging him forward.

No one pays them any mind as they wander the strange, mazy streets lit with torches. They pass a stall that sells masks; demons with yellow fangs curling, pale vixen yokai and creatures Zoro’s never seen before. All smooth polished wood, painted in vivid colors.

Luffy nods towards one, “This looks like Zoro.” It’s green and black and red, a demon with three rows of bared teeth and three pairs of eyes. 

Zoro snorts. “Then that’s you,” pointing at a monkey one. Luffy laughs, and Zoro asks, “You want ‘em?”

“Nah,” Luffy says cheerfully, “I wanna see you now.” His grip tightens a bit around Zoro as he yanks him futher, almost untying his yukata. Zoro swears and he laughs, bright in the night. 

Luffy’s own yukata’s loose and firelight catches on the dips of his collarbone, the tip of his nose is faint pink, still flushed with sake. 

Zoro gets a drink of something pink from a stall. It rolls down his throat easy with the burn of a good alcohol.

They wander aimless by stands selling toys, wooden and real flowers, calligraphy delicate and bold, ink paintings of lovers twisted in an embrace. Zoro studies them, the sets of broad shoulders and muscular backs, but finds that none of them makes his heart speed up in the way as fists covered with blood, a too broad grin or a scar crinkling under the eye. 

The scar under Luffy’s dark eye crinkles when he almost trips Zoro over and elbows him in the gut as he halts them to stop. His eyes are wild as he says, “Look over there, Zoro!”

The kiosk has tile roof of red and green forming a curlicue pattern and is surrounded by kids; ones that can barely walk and mean teens pretending they are only there for their younger siblings. They drift closer, and there is a little pool with goldfish swimming in it, desperate to avoid the scooping paper nets chasing them.

“Goldfish scooping,” Luffy’s face is beaming, an expression usually reserved for the times the Sunny blows something off the map. “Hey kid,” he pokes a boy with messy dark hair on the shoulder, crouching next to him, “whatcha gotta do to do this? I wanna.” 

The kid frowns, looking him up and down. “Mister, aren’t you a little old for that?”

“Nope,” Luffy pops the 'p' loud. “Don’t be stupid. No one’s too old to win. Or you wanna stop playing when you’re grown or something?

The kid considered this. “No. Guess not. You pay the uncle here and he’ll give you a paper scoop,” and Zoro’s already holding one out for Luffy to take. He watches Luffy carelessly splash the water around, getting it on himself at the kids’ delight, then on them too, to their even bigger delight. His face falls a bit when the paper breaks and he has no fish to show for it.

Zoro’s standing over him, and runs a hand through his curls, fingers pressing into his scalp. He says, compassionately, “What would you have done with a fish anyway.”

Luffy looks up to him, pouting and crestfallen. “It’s not about that. I could just let it go back to the sea anyway.”

“It’s freshwater fish.”

“It’s not my fault they can’t swim in the other water.”

“Fine, give one to me too, old man,” Zoro addresses the stall owner now. He pushes Luffy back and crouches next to the pool himself. The fish swim in lazy circles, and Zoro picks out the biggest damn one, then scoops it out with one quick move. He drops it into a jug with a big splash and gives his still-intact scoop to a kid who’s had her broken.

Luffy coos in delight as he hands it to him. “Zoro’s so cool,” he states, with utter and deep conviction, as if getting a goldfish was the most amazing thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

Zoro still ends up having to carry the jug with the goddamn fish, of course.

“Oi, Zoro,” Luffy says, after a while, mouth almost touching Zoro’s ear. His hand snakes down, grabbing Zoro’s ass, his fingers kneading the hard muscle. “I’m getting bored. Let’s find a place.” and that’s what Zoro and his dick have been aching to hear all night. After a moment Luffy adds, “Dango first, though.” 

Luffy’s already drooling again, spit dripping on his shoulder and darkening the fabric of Zoro’s yukata. His breath is hot and and sour with meat, familiar. He’s wrapped around him, skin warm and solid, cloth cold and wet in the places where the he splashed the water onto himself. 

“Hold your damn fish,” Zoro mutters as he buys him his dango. He hands Luffy the stick with the dango on it; sickly sweet and dripping with sugary glaze. Luffy doesn’t reach for it, but eats them right off the stick, sliding his tongue sideways, licking along Zoro’s fingers with it. 

“You’re gross,” Zoro says. The sugar’s crusted on Luffy’s face, shiny and sticky. He wipes his hands under Luffy's dirty chin, making him laugh and making an even bigger mess of his fingers. 

The fireworks bloom above them like a flower in the night, illuminating the street, lifting the blanket of the night. Luffy’s eyes are turned towards the sky, wild with wonder. During the grand finale, the glow of the lampions pale in comparison, faint fireflies to the breath of a dragon, sky bright as the day. The crowd cheers, kids crying at the loud blooms or looking with mouths hanging open. 

Zoro’s not watching the show. He watches Luffy, his profile illuminated by the soft rainbow of colors, the miniature sparks of fire in his dark pupils.

Luffy’s face is strangely featureless, the kind that sorta falls apart when one looks at it too long; mouth, nose, cheeks. Zoro knows this because he’s been looking at Luffy forever. It’s more like there’s light shining out of him, sun breaking up the clouds, eclipsing even the flashes of fireworks; flesh unimportant. 

They stumble into an alley and the moment they turn the corner Luffy shoves and pins him to the wall. He drags his teeth on the sensitive skin of his throat, sucking a bruise into it, making Zoro gasp. His grip on him is sure and strong as he kisses him messily, wanton. 

Breaking the kiss, he manages, “Luffy— there’s an inn just here—”, and then Luffy’s catches his lower lip, warm and wet. Zoro’s train of thought stops there as he kisses back. His wrist flinches on the wall under Luffy’s calloused grip.

Luffy lets him go with a sudden move, and he steps back, panting, eyes dark. “Let’s go now or I’ll have Zoro right here.” 

Zoro is very much not opposed to the idea, but he lets his hands fall and tugs Luffy along to a tall, narrow inn that’s easy to miss on the corner of two streets.

“A room for two,” he rasps, slapping some coins on the table before the old lady sitting here. Luffy taps his sandaled feet impatiently, looking at a half-dead plant in the tiny lobby. The lady looks them up and down, their flushed faces and telltale bulges and doesn’t ask if they want a double futon.

The way up the stairs is torture as hard as he is, and he barely registers the room— simple tatami, windows thrown open— before Luffy’s on him again. He almost trips them over and he kicks up the lantern when he pushes him to the wall again. Zoro flips them over this time and they almost fall out of the open window. He leans down to Luffy, kissing along his jaw, the curve of his ear. 

Luffy gives an enthusiastic little sound and slips a hand under Zoro’s yukata, dragging on his obi, trying to untie it. He starts pushing them towards the bedding, but Zoro shakes his head; or more like tries, mouth occupied with Luffy. 

“Nah, wait a moment,” he mutters into the crook of his neck and says, honestly, “I wanna suck your dick first.” Luffy gives a shudder and a raspy laugh, hands ruffling Zoro’s short, soft hair.

Zoro sinks down, to Luffy’s feet, on his knees, running his hands up his legs. Luffy’s tall, colossal from this angle, larger than life; just right. The way Zoro’s always seen him, the way the world is starting to see him. His outside finally matching his inside, an Emperor of the Sea now. Luffy has no underwear on and Zoro almost snorts; having a rubber dick definitely has its advantages. 

Several, in fact.

Luffy’s flushed, pupils blown wide and focused on him; a sight Zoro can’t get tired of. He opens up his captain’s yukata, letting the obi fall soundlessly on the tatami in between them. Luffy’s cock is hard and leaking, standing obscenely in Zoro’s face. The ugly wound on his side is mostly covered by medical tape and he has bruises similar to the one on his jaw, now more green than black. 

Zoro licks along his length eagerly, tasting him again, sucking on the velvety skin on his balls to pull a moan out of him. He keeps Luffy against the wall, his hips are almost lost under Zoro’s own palms when his first mate digs his fingers into his tanned skin. Luffy groans and pulls him closer by the hair, sudden movement making his earrings chime.

He takes the tip in his mouth, tongue circling it, tasting the salty pre-cum. Tuned to little moans Luffy makes, the hand on the nape of his neck, the girth of his cock. 

When Zoro takes his full length into his mouth with one smooth motion, all the air wheezes out of Luffy’s lungs; a sound that goes straight to Zoro’s own throbbing dick. His captain is panting now, his exhales growing shaky and Zoro feels Luffy’s cock twitch in his throat. He groans around it, a vibration he knows Luffy can feel too.

After a while, Luffy taps his shoulder and pushes him back. Zoro’s mouth tastes like sweat and dick; no meal like this at the festival. 

Luffy’s eyes are half-lidded with pleasure and sake, looking down at Zoro. The corner of his mouth turns up in a lopsided smile and says, “I missed this with Zoro.”

“Me too, captain,” Zoro says, voice hoarse from giving head and Luffy leans down and kisses him. The scab on his lip comes loose, making the kiss taste like blood. His lips taste less like dango now, unpleasant sweetness toned down by the salt of blood and pre-cum. 

Luffy breaks the kiss and looks around now, tone serious. “If there isn’t anything we can use here I swear I’ll—" and Zoro lets out a throaty, choked laugh even as he himself looks around too.

“You’ll what? Kick down the door to the inn lady’s room butt ass naked?” 

“No,” Luffy turns to him, looking him up and down, deliberate. “I won’t have the time.” And Zoro makes another sound at that, halfway between laughter and a groan. “And I’m not even the one with the rubber ass here.”

Luffy pushes him back by his shoulders towards the bedroll, and Zoro shuffles back, awkwardly, on his knees. The light catches Luffy from the back, a mere silhouette of ruffled hair and sharp angles. When he shrugs off off his open yukata Zoro sees that there are bruises curling around his arms too, from the fight. 

Zoro undoes his own obi, but before he could throw it aside Luffy crawls on him, his hands following and running along the muscles in his own arms; shoulder to forearm to elbow to wrist, holding him down. 

Zoro playfully strains in the grip that doesn’t bulge; Luffy’s always been one of the few people physically stronger than himself. It’s as exciting as when he first experienced Luffy’s bony knuckles laying him flat down in the dirt of Whiskey Peak, even if just for a moment. 

A thrill in his veins that hasn’t left him since.

Luffy’s mouth isn’t idle either; it captures Zoro’s earlobe, sucking on it, tracking the curved shell of it from top to bottom, licking behind it. The tip of his tongue reaches his earrings, taking the cold metal into his mouth, pulling on them; they chime as they knock against his teeth. The wet gold falls cold against Zoro’s neck when he lets it go. 

He kisses along his jaw and chin, stubble scratching Zoro up and licks the sweat dotting his skin. The air is thick with heat and humidity and even as the open window lets in a faint breeze, it’s barely enough to move the air in the room.

Luffy catches one of Zoro’s nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, teasing it till it perks up.

Zoro groans, “Fuck, Luffy—” so his captain bites down a bit harder, hard teeth against sensitive skin. Zoro’s untouched dick throbs and he arches up to Luffy, yearning for friction. 

One rubber arm stretches out, having found a promising tub in the room from the corner of his eye. Zoro takes the opportunity to run his now free hand along Luffy’s warm back, down to his firm buttocks. His pinky teases Luffy’s hole, getting a lovely sound out of him. 

Luffy studies the content of the tub, face lighting up. “It’s the real stuff,” he marvels, and Zoro can’t help but agree; it’ll be nice not to use sword oil or who knows what else in his ass for once. 

Luffy wiggles on Zoro’s finger as he pours some of the oil on his fingers, but orders, “Hands down, Zoro.” He gives a disappointed sigh anyway when Zoro pulls his finger out. He takes Zoro’s cock into his hands, rough thumb tracing the tip in a circular motion, making the liquid fire already pooling in Zoro’s belly flare even hotter. He strokes him in lazy motions, only up, letting go and starting from his balls again, so Zoro can’t even buck up in his grip. A dirty trick that makes Zoro groan in frustration.

After a while, Luffy lets him go and kisses him again. A fresh trickle of blood is staining his lips, the wound still bleeding. He reaches back and his oiled up fingers trace around Zoro’s hole and teases the sensitive nerve endings. It makes the hair all over the swordsman’s body stand; on his arm, back, face. 

Luffy slips one finger in with little hesitation and it slides in smoothly between the oil and the sake relaxing Zoro’s muscles. 

He crooks his finger just _right_ , finding the spot that sends sparks down Zoro’s spine. Zoro jumps like he’s touched a live wire. “Fuck, Luffy—” he breaths and he digs his hands into the sheets, shuddering. 

Luffy chuckles and strokes the same spot hard and mercilessly, adding another finger and watching his first mate’s breath catch. His other hand gently wipes the sweat off Zoro’s damp forehead, pushing the short, loose strands of green hair back. 

Zoro feels the rough, calloused fingers inside him stretching him open and reaches for Luffy’s face. He runs a thumb over the scar under his eye, skin raised and hard, like old rubber. Luffy’s mouth is red and well-kissed, similar to his own. 

Zoro can smell the sour stench of old blood on the wound on Luffy’s side; it must have been restiched recently, but he sees no red stains on the patch of gauze. Luffy’s obviously not bothered by it, his eyes bright with love and want, not pain. 

Luffy scissors his fingers, stretching the ring of muscle easy and sure. Their bodies know each other, sliding together seamlessly like two pieces of a matching set. Long time lovers, no hesitation or words needed. Zoro licks his thumb and runs it over Luffy’s chest, where the scar meets his areola; an oversensitive spot. It makes Luffy squirm a little. 

Zoro’s on fire with anticipation. He’s missed the feel of Luffy grinding into him, nailing him to the hard floor on the Merry, the Sunny, against a dirty walls of an alleyway. His captain doesn't make him wait for long; he pulls his fingers out and he greedily pushes Zoro’s thighs apart, touch firm and sticky with sweat and sugar. He angles the tip of his cock against Zoro, and slides in with one sure move, his first mate’s body parting eagerly for him. 

They groan and grin with pleasure against each other’s mouth. Luffy angles one of Zoro’s legs into the air, who hooks it around Luffy’s shoulder, other foot digging into the sheets. Luffy makes an appreciative sound at the view, at his own cock rocking deep into Zoro’s ass and the swordsman’s own dangling in the air between his spread legs, thick and leaking.

Luffy’s fingers dig into Zoro’s skin, tracing his smaller scars; he finds the one on his upper thigh that would have been his own, after Thriller Bark. He might not know about it, but Zoro’s noticed that he’s always paid special attention to it, his tongue tracing or thumb digging into the raised skin, now faded white. 

Luffy’s thrusts are brash and loose, movements buzzing with fire. He hits Zoro’s spot again and again, tearing ragged grunts out of him, making his breath catch. The tatami is firm under his head, even through the soft bedroll, grounding him. 

He’s soaked in sweat, Luffy’s towering over him. Zoro takes his sight in and twists his hand into his captain’s dark, greasy curls, tracing the hollow at the base of his skull. It makes Luffy shiver. 

“Your stubble burns,” Zoro pants when Luffy kisses him again, voice fond. His cheek is red and scraped up with beard burn. 

Luffy snorts and tightens his grip on him with a wicked glint in his eye, rocking deeper into him. “Not me, it doesn’t,” and he leans closer, rubbing his cheek against Zoro’s own face, deliberate, laughing. 

“Hey, fuck— you little shi—” Zoro yelps at Luffy’s attack, pushing his face away, but he’s shaking with laughter too, enough so that they almost fall over between the thrusts and giggles.

Luffy tightens his pace, eyes on Zoro dark with want. He reaches between Zoro’s legs and starts jerking him off to the rhythm, palm still smooth with oil. He braces himself on an elbow and hooks his fingers in Zoro’s mouth, tracing the inside of his lower lip, soft and wet. Zoro moans around them. 

He’s shuddering with the pleasure bombarding his senses, the jolts of electricity running up and down his body. Luffy gives a shuddery chuckle when Zoro grabs for him and it resonates through his chest, pressed close to his own. 

Luffy’s hips and hand move in synch and his breath is hot in Zoro's ear. He takes a nip at Zoro’s ear and thrusts into him balls deep and hard, grip working on his cock in twisting motions.

A full-body tremble runs through Zoro, and he comes with a shuddering groan, toes curling and vision blacking out. Luffy keeps fucking him through it, placing little kisses on his bare throat as Zoro’s jerking with pleasure, seeing nothing but fireworks; way more captivating than the ones at the festival. 

Luffy’s close now too, hand still working on Zoro’s softening cock, not giving him an inch to relax. Soon he comes too, with a small grunt into Zoro’s ass.

He slumps against Zoro, boneless and satisfied. Zoro unhooks his leg with a tired groan, dropping it onto the futon, muscles weak and pliant and throws an arm around Luffy as he nests against the crook of his neck. Neither of them bother to clean the cum from between them.

Luffy wiggles and slides out of him with a satisfied sigh. “I’ve missed Zoro.” He stinks with drying sweat and musk.

“Same, captain,” Zoro sighs. He kicks the blanket so it covers at least a part of Luffy; he doesn't want to wake up to him tugging it. They lie together, listening to their own slowing breaths and sounds of the festival drifting in from the street. 

The restlessness from his bones is finally gone now. He takes in the room again, lazy, from below his half lidded eyes. Luffy’s yukata rumpled on the floor by his swords, where he shoved them. His own yukata is beyond salvation, wrinkled and cum stained beneath them. He notices a jug of sake in the corner too, just now; a gift from the inn. He’ll get up and drink it later, when he feels like his legs are working again. Trust his captain to wring him out like that.

Speaking of jugs.

“Hey. Luffy,” Zoro asks. “Where’s the jug I gave you?”

Luffy stirs against him. “Hnn? Oh, that? Zoro gave it to me and I drank it ‘cause the dango was so sweet.”

Zoro lifts his head to look at him in disbelief. “There was fish was in it!”

“What fish? Oh the—”

“You drank a goddamn fish and didn’t even notice?”

Luffy suppresses a yawn. “Why’s Zoro so upset? I was gonna give it to Sanji to fry anyway.”

Zoro opens his mouth. Looks his captain in the face; his musky, dark hair, sleepy, kind eyes. He’s the man who's gonna rule all the seas one day. “You are fucking disgusting,” Zoro says. 

He’s might be in love.

Luffy giggles and blows a raspberry on Zoro’s face. His hand rests on Zoro's chest, right at the start of the long scar dedicated to him. “Zoro should be happy my throat stretches, too,” he says with a glint in his eyes.

Zoro snorts, stretching like a cat, sleep pulling him down too. “Betcha I am.” He’s pleasantly cool now, the sweat drying on him providing some relief from the heat. The sake and Luffy’s cum are warming his insides, two different sorta highs; being hazed and well-fucked. “We can use that round two, maybe,” he adds, with a yawn. That’s always nice. And the night’s still long and neither of them are big on sleeping.

Luffy hums in agreement, eyes closed. “Good idea,” he mutters into the crook of Zoro’s throat.

Zoro closes his eye too, muscles relaxed and mellow under Luffy’s weight.

The night is still long; they’ll have plenty of time to catch up on everything. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \- my gratitude goes for [codedredalert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/codedredalert/pseuds/codedredalert) for being my beta reader and for organising the event!  
> \- I must confess this fic's woking title was "fireworks will probably be used as an orgasm metaphor at some point" which got dangerously close to becoming the actual title. If you'd still like to talk to me after this information, I'm @narramin on tumblr and twitter.  
> \- please everyone LOOK AT THIS [ WONDERFUL PIECE OF ART](https://twitter.com/Eutt1/status/1350103331155357699) PAULA DREW FOR THIS, JUST LOOK


End file.
